


Backwards

by Valmouth



Category: Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Co-Parenting, Jedi, M/M, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Relationships in reverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 09:51:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20338180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valmouth/pseuds/Valmouth
Summary: They do this the wrong way round. First, they start with a padawan...





	Backwards

They do this the wrong way round.

First, they start with a padawan.

Well, Qui-Gon does.

Even though he can’t sit up, let alone walk, and has only been fully conscious for three days, he gathers the scant reserves of his strength of will and browbeats four holographic Council members and the Grand Master of the Jedi Order into letting him take Anakin Skywalker as his apprentice.

Obi-Wan would be more impressed if he wasn’t so dubious.

Qui-Gon is as weak as a newborn, has severe internal injuries that leave him with more tubes running into his flesh than it’s comfortable to look at, and is recovering slowly under the cloud that he may never regain his former strength.

He’s also fifty two years of age.

He has never been old to Obi-Wan but now he’s almost frightening mortal.

Still. At least he’s alive. And when Obi-Wan arrives at his bedside with his braid shorn off, Qui-Gon’s gaze is as fiercely blue and as sharply intuitive as it ever was.

“The Council felt there was no merit in delaying the inevitable,” Obi-Wan explains.

Qui-Gon actually tries to sit up.

“You deserved a proper ceremony,” he whispers irritably, “What have they gained by breaking custom?”

Obi-Wan would never do anything as crass as push his master back down to the pillows. Instead he folds his arms within his sleeves and waits.

Qui-Gon coughs, winces, and falls back.

“You shouldn’t exhaust yourself,” Obi-Wan tells him mildly.

His former master is not grateful for the advice.

Neither is he particularly happy to find that Anakin is merely confused by the formality of being asked to accept Qui-Gon’s offer of apprenticeship. Mostly because, to Anakin, he’s been bought for that express purpose. It’s why he’s on Naboo.

Yoda’s ears twitch but Qui-Gon tells his new Padawan in no uncertain terms that he has only bought Anakin’s freedom, not Anakin himself, and he will do all in his power to help Anakin dispose of that freedom however he wants if the Jedi Order does not suit.

“But you have a gift,” Qui-Gon pants, his breath and energy beginning to run short, “I want… to help you… learn… to use it. For your sake. And the galaxy.”

He falls asleep very soon after.

“If we intend to allow this, the boy at least needs a master who can stay awake,” Mace points out.

“As quick will you heal, when impaled on a lightsabre you are? Hm?” Yoda returns.

Which is roughly how Obi-Wan finds his life commandeered by his mentor and his former master. Again.

He is initially drafted into service to do what Qui-Gon can’t: move.

He sits down with Anakin and begins the basics of meditation, and then stands up with Anakin and begins the basics of movements that lead into simple katas. And then he sits while Anakin stands, and they play the blindfold game.

Somewhere in the middle he asks gently, “Do you really want to be a Jedi, Anakin?”

And Anakin shrugs, “If I don’t become a Jedi, what will I be?”

Obi-Wan considers that, watching Anakin’s neat, quick fingers tinker with the innards of the robotic hoverball they use for the blindfold game. “There are many paths in the galaxy,” he says, “Your choices are not limited to Tatooine and the Temple.”

Anakin has motor oil on his nose and enormous blue eyes, and the Queen’s hairdresser has cut his mop of fair hair severely short in anticipation of his Initiation. “Like what?”

Obi-Wan considerately passes him a welding pin. “You could be many things – a mechanic, or a pilot. You may grow up and find other interests.”

“But won’t Mister Qui-Gon be mad?”

“Master Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan corrects, “May be. But not at you.”

Anakin pauses. “I won’t get a lightsabre if I don’t become a Jedi.”

Obi-Wan bites back a grin. “No,” he agrees, “That is true.”

Anakin makes his decision and formally accepts Qui-Gon’s offer of an apprenticeship. By the time they return to Coruscant, five months have passed and Anakin’s braid is just beginning to grow. Qui-Gon is able to stand and walk, and on good days he can even bend. Obi-Wan has been informed by the Council that his life as a new knight will begin once he has landed.

After all, there are other rituals involved in a knighthood.

Anakin watches with interest while Obi-Wan packs his few belongings.

“Leave them here,” Qui-Gon says softly, “Focus on what lies before you.”

Obi-Wan nods once and puts the box carefully in a corner of the shared living room. Then he pulls his hood up and leaves.

What happens after that is not something Anakin is privy to at the time. All Anakin knows is that Obi-Wan returns a year later, looking scruffy and dishevelled and trailing sand. He smells of several weeks of travel without washing.

Qui-Gon rises slowly to his feet. “You were successful?” he asks.

“For a measure of success, yes.” Obi-Wan sounds exhausted, and looks worse, and when Anakin takes a discreet step backwards, nose wrinkling, says, “Here. This is a message for you, Anakin.”

Eventually Qui-Gon tells his Padawan that every new knight chooses a Quest. A self-determined mission that allows them to exercise their newfound autonomy, to test their resolve and inventiveness by embarking on a personal journey. 

Anakin finds out from the message that Obi-Wan’s ‘personal journey’ was a return to Tatooine and an investigation into the slave trade. The Republic Senate has no standing in Hutt space but a skilled negotiator can account for that.

“We will buy ourselves back,” Anakin hears his mother say, “There is a farmer, Lars, he will help us. Maybe one day we will all be free.”

When he finally leaves his room, brushing tears off his eyelashes, he finds his master alone. But then he hears the hum of the water unit and Qui-Gon glances expressly at the box and pack in the corner. Neither of them have moved.

This is a significance that Anakin is too young to notice at the time but represents something that Qui-Gon has no compunctions about using to his advantage.

A year after his injury, Qui-Gon can sit and stand and walk. He can accomplish most of the simpler katas at a moderate speed, and he has taught Anakin everything from literacy to basic Force shielding. What he cannot do is keep up with an active ten year old who is beginning to advance his physical training in leaps and bounds.

There are other masters in the Temple, of course, and Anakin is technically still at an age where he is expected to attend group classes with other initiates at his skill level, but he is an exception in more ways than one. His power and his aptitude are astonishing, but his control is lacking.

This, too, Qui-Gon can manage. Once Anakin has the grasp of what he is to do, he can be drilled over and over, replicating years’ worth of muscle memory and instinct in a single month. And Anakin finds that for all Qui-Gon’s compassion, his master will push him to the brink of his endurance time and again.

And he does not accept anything less than perfection.

Obi-Wan walks into the room to find Anakin playing the memory game.

Children of six are shown a tray with objects on it, and then challenged to remember them all once the tray is covered. Initiates are taken to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, or shown pictures and holographs. Padawans learn to use this skill on active missions.

Anakin is still at the tray stage.

And he is clearly losing his temper over it.

“The key is green,” Qui-Gon tells him, and, “These are the same objects every time, Ani.”

“I know, Master, I’m trying,” Anakin growls.

“Your mind is on your frustration. Forget your emotions; focus on what is on this tray. Again.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin says, and straightens up.

Obi-Wan stays quiet until the lesson is over, surprised by the infinite nuances of these instructions now that he has the chance to observe them from the outside, so to speak.

And what he observes is that Anakin has no friends in the Temple. He has a dedicated Master at an age where no initiate has a master, he has his robots, and he has a handful of acquaintances.

Qui-Gon is well aware of the problem but is not in a position to solve it. He is Anakin’s Master; he can hardly order him to make friends. But he has a plan.

Master Docent Vant is more than happy to have one of her former pupils give a lecture on the hyperdrive mechanics of Starfighters. Obi-Wan is less than thrilled but he is easily persuaded.

Anakin endures ten minutes of his talk in silence before raising his hand. “Sir,” he says, “You won’t find that in the new N1-starfighters. They don’t have a hyperdrive capability for lightspeed. It has to be put in special to escort Padme, I mean the Queen.”

“As you say,” Obi-Wan agrees, “And it’s hardly an efficient addition.”

“No,” Anakin responds, warming to his subject, “They have to refuel at the docking points every 1,000 and Padme says one time they…”

Someone else raises a hand cautiously. “What does an N-1 look like?” she asks.

After that, Anakin holds court.

“And you flew one of them in a battle?”

Anakin looks embarrassed. “Um, Master Qui-Gon told me to stay in the cockpit,” he mutters, “And then the fighting started and I can pod race so I thought… it was a lucky shot, really.”

“There is no luck, Padawan Skywalker,” Master Vant says firmly, “Only the Force.”

The children are silent for a few minutes and then – “What’s a pod race?”

“This won’t solve the problem,” Obi-Wan warns later.

Qui-Gon watches Anakin put together yet another hybrid robot from spare parts. “It’s a start,” he says, “He must learn to participate in life in the Temple.”

“Does that mean I have to give another talk?” Obi-Wan asks humorously.

“No,” Qui-Gon returns, “This time a lightsabre demonstration.”

“I see.”

Since Obi-Wan is working on a diplomatic investigation at the Senate, his evenings are mostly free. He gives two talks, two lightsabre demonstrations, and five swimming lessons. This last for Anakin alone, when he finds out that Anakin can’t swim.

After three weeks on Coruscant, Obi-Wan is assigned his first mission.

“I leave tomorrow,” he tells Qui-Gon, “I promised Anakin I’d help him with his lightsabre forms but I won’t be here.”

“He’ll understand,” Qui-Gon says and then lays an affectionate hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Thank you for your help, my friend.”

Obi-Wan returns three months and two missions later. He puts Anakin through his paces in the training rooms, in the lake, and on the obstacle course. And then he leaves again.

They settle into a pattern. 

Until the day he returns with a broken leg.

It’s already begun to heal as he hops off the transport but he is ordered by the med staff to rest it. The mission that caused the injury was not a happy one, and he appreciates the chance to reflect on what went wrong.

Or more appropriately, what he did wrong.

He doesn’t expect to have his time commandeered yet again. This time by Anakin.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin says, and his smile is absurdly delighted.

“Hello Anakin,” Obi-Wan returns, “I see you’ve grown again.”

“I had to get new pants,” Anakin says proudly.

Which is how they move on to the next phase – cohabiting.

Obi-Wan is a young knight and he is expected to act like one. He must severe the ties of dependence on others and walk his own path.

This is difficult to accomplish when he can barely hop.

His own inactivity frustrates him to the point where he is visibly irritated when his door chimes to alert him to the fact that yet another wellwisher expects him to manoeuvre out of his chair and stagger off to answer the summons.

“Come in,” he yells instead.

And the door opens to Qui-Gon’s blandest look of guileless enquiry.

“Anakin did say you were a little tense,” Qui-Gon tells him, and, “I have a proposition for you.”

Obi-Wan glares, but there’s no real heat in it. There generally isn’t, when it comes to his former Master. 

Co-habiting, however, is a misleading word. There are no suites in the Temple that allow for groups of three, because there has never been a time when a Padawan has been allowed two masters. Any more than a Master has ever been allowed two padawans.

The Council worries that it will only confuse Anakin. Besides which, Obi-Wan has his own duties to attend to.

“And he will continue to do so,” Qui-Gon agrees, “But I have limitations on my abilities and require assistance with my Padawan’s physical training.”

“There are other training masters in the Temple.”

Qui-Gon nods. “All very competent, and their assistance is greatly appreciated. I will continue to ask for their indulgence as needed. However, a dedicated trainer would be more suitable to provide continuity for Anakin, and Obi-Wan is not only skilled in these areas but knows my methods. Or at least he should; I trained him.”

Obi-Wan does know his methods. And, Qui-Gon believes, has surpassed them.

Enough so that when he sees his former Padawan in the training ring with another knight, learning an entirely different fighting style, he stays calm and considers it logically.

“A man who speaks too many languages often finds himself tongue-tied,” he offers.

It has been many years since Obi-Wan has credited his more cryptic remarks with much admiration. He gets a flat, grey-eyed smirk as Obi-Wan stretches, long and languid.

“A man who can only answer with one word is not communicating,” his former Padawan responds.

Anakin looks between the both of them, brow wrinkling.

“I don’t understand,” he confesses.

“Meditate on it,” they both say, and Anakin rolls his eyes.

Oddly enough, this becomes yet another thing that begins to draw Anakin’s age mates to him.

They seem to find it fascinating that he copes with two different voices of instruction.

“I can barely keep up with Master Fein Sii’s expectations,” Tru says frankly, “And that’s when she’s teaching all of us in the age group.”

Anakin is embarrassed that he is so out of the ordinary – so much trouble – that it requires two masters to train him but Pol Erskitas tells him that he should be honoured.

“You’re the Chosen One,” Pol says, “You have to be special.”

“But I’m not,” Anakin protests.

“Really?” Pol asks dubiously.

“Really.”

Pol trails his three fingertips in the lake water. “Oh,” he says, and shrugs, “Well, I guess that’s okay too.”

It is more than okay. Anakin Skywalker finds it especially rewarding.

His relationship with his age mates is getting better but he is both too knowledgeable of the world and too ignorant of the Jedi to feel completely at ease with them. This is something he does not suffer with either his Master or Obi-Wan.

And in many ways, he learns best by watching them when they forget he is there.

Qui-Gon believes this is normal.

“Do you think I never realised how much you gained from observing my conversations with Tahl?” he asks.

Obi-Wan has to admit that Qui-Gon is right. Beyond teaching him how to understand his Master, Tahl was the one who taught him what it meant to live by the Jedi Code.

Her compassion allowed her to forgive his willingness to sacrifice her on Melida/ Daan for a pipe dream of peace, and yet he still carries the memory of her formidable warning to meditate on what exactly it was he chose to do when he turned his back on the Jedi Order for the Young.

He thinks of her while he learns as much as from teaching Anakin as he sees Anakin learn from him.

Together they both hone their lightsabre forms and fine Force skills. Together they both learn to access the deep meditative space that quiets the constant rush of their senses driven by the Force.

He finds to his surprise that his time in the Temple strengthens his ability to focus.

He is told later that this is a normal discovery for a Master teaching a Padawan.

He hears this from Mace, who informs him on his return that the inevitable has finally happened.

“Qui-Gon and Skywalker are on a mission,” Mace tells him, “It was time.”

He breathes deeply and does not allow panic to breach the calm surface of his thoughts. “Of course,” he says, and prepares to wait patiently for news.

Anakin is far less experienced at controlling his panic.

He is also confronted with yet another reminder that he does not understand the unspoken knowledge that passes amongst the Temple initiates without words. 

When Qui-Gon tells him to pack, he understands the action. When Qui-Gon tells him to pack essentials and be prepared, he is less confident.

No one has told him what ‘prepared’ means. He assumes it means a standard field kit, which includes a change of clothes, an emergency med pouch, a basic tool kit and a navigation unit, and yet he discovers that his pack looks far bulkier than his Master’s, who looks as though he’s slung an empty bag over his shoulder.

All Qui-Gon asks is whether he has his lightsabre.

“Here, Master,” Anakin says, and taps a finger against the hilt on his belt.

It takes them three standard days to reach their destination, and Anakin feels vaguely ill for the entire journey. He’s almost too glad to get off the ship and scrambles onto the ramp as quickly as he can.

Only to be yanked back into the shadows of the holding bay by the scruff of his neck.

“Pay attention to your surroundings,” Qui-Gon whispers, and nods slightly to where a troop of battle droids are positioned on the outskirts of the landing pad.

“They may only be an escort but be ready,” Qui-Gon instructs, “Do what you can to protect yourself. Remember your basics.”

Anakin is eleven years old and terrified, but he dumps his overfull pack in a corner of the ship, ignores the pilot, and takes a deep breath.

In the end, he survives.

They both do.

And when he returns, Obi-Wan raises his eyebrow at Anakin’s pack. “I suppose it will do as a weapon when you lose your lightsabre,” he remarks.

“I won’t lose it,” Anakin protests.

“Almost everyone does, Padawan,” Qui-Gon says lightly, drying his wet hands, “I lost my first lightsabre three days after I made it.”

“What did your master say?”

“Exactly what I will say to you – find it immediately, keep it safe. It will save your life more times than you can count.”

Obi-Wan watches Anakin remove the med pouch from his pack.

“Did you pack nutrient bars?” he asks.

Anakin laughs, assuming he is joking.

Obi-Wan isn’t joking.

“You will find, young Padawan, that our Master lives on a diet of fresh air and determination,” Obi-Wan tells him, “Between you and I, I was hungry for three years before I adjusted.”

Anakin shrugs. “I know how to be hungry,” he says matter-of-factly, “Sometimes Gardula used to starve her slaves if she was in a bad mood.”

Both his Masters still, eyes sharp and intense.

“That will serve you in good stead as a Jedi,” Obi-Wan comments neutrally.

Qui-Gon leans forward and asks what Anakin would think if he were to insist that he miss a meal.

“Why?” Anakin asks suspiciously.

His Master waits patiently for an answer. Obi-Wan’s expression is placid and blank.

Anakin thinks about it. “I’d want to know why,” he finally says, “If there’s anything wrong with the food or- or if I did something.”

“And what if I tell you that it’s nothing to do with you. That we simply don’t have time to eat.”

“I… I don’t know, Master,” Anakin confesses.

Qui-Gon nods. “I didn’t think you would. Obi-Wan wasn’t joking when he said that food is sometimes a luxury we cannot afford on a mission. I want you to meditate on this, however: if you ever go hungry, it isn’t because you deserve to go hungry. It isn’t anything you did wrong, Ani, or didn’t do at all. It’s because sometimes we have to put the needs of others before our own.”

Later still Obi-Wan hands him a screwdriver and says casually, “He’ll neglect you in the same way that he neglects himself. This is not a comfort, Anakin. He drives himself very hard and he will expect you to keep up.”

“I’m used to that,” Anakin says.

“Because you were a slave?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Yup,” Anakin nods, and bites down on his lip as he carefully prods a tiny circuit board into place.

Obi-Wan takes the machinery out of his hands and turns to face him. “I want you to think very carefully about this, Anakin. As a Jedi, you will face suffering. But you can’t face it because someone else decides your fate. You have to choose it. People will hurt you, reject you, hate you, try to destroy you, but only because you choose to be a Jedi.”

Anakin’s eyes are big and blue, but he has grown in two years ago. He is taller. The shape of his face has begun to lengthen and thin.

“Be mindful of your choices,” Obi-Wan tells him.

“What if I choose not to be a Jedi?” Anakin asks.

“Then it is a choice you make. You will have to live with the consequences.” 

Anakin nods. And then he looks up. “Like giving up my lightsabre?”

Obi-Wan nods sympathetically. “Like giving up your lightsabre.”

At eleven, Anakin is still too young for the more advanced missions that Padawans are sent out on with their Masters but he is given the opportunity to attend several sessions of the Republic Senate with Qui-Gon, who is asked to analyse the security measures of the Senate Chambers.

There have always been rumours of blackmail and bribery in the Republic Senate. It is a known fact that political discourse operates on alliances.

However, the Jedi Council is asked to investigate a growing trend in external influence.

Qui-Gon has dealt with such cases before, though never on Coruscant itself. His famous capture of Senator S’orn and Jenna Zan Arbor is a case in point. Besides which he has a limited capacity for more physically taxing missions.

The Council instructs him to extreme caution. They do not want to risk upsetting any factions.

Obi-Wan thinks this is highly likely to happen anyway.

He makes Anakin promise to stop his Master starting any civil disobedience on the Senate floor.

Anakin promises with equal humour.

“You are not allowed to take sides,” Qui-Gon says severely, but the corners of his mouth twitch and Anakin looks entirely unrepentant.

Through the enigmatic workings of the Force – and the Council – Obi-Wan is also en route to the Senate.

He has been retained on Coruscant for urgent mediation between two factions of the Banking Clan.

Like his former Master, he regards his mission with a cynical distaste for diplomats and politicians. He has no doubt he will spend his day locked into a room with Muuns and humanoids, arguing insults and eye-watering sums of money.

Anakin looks up between the two of them, absorbing their words and the sense of their opinions like a sponge. 

But his attention is soon caught by the splendour of the Senate Chambers.

He barely notices as Obi-Wan leaves them at the second security checkpoint, an aid ushering him obsequiously towards the suite of rooms that the Banking Clan feel is due their importance.

As for the security measures, they seem relatively commonplace. Unimaginative but effective.

“Could a Jedi find a way around them?” Anakin asks.

“Yes, but a Jedi would never want to,” Qui-Gon tells him.

Anakin turns that over in his mind as they review the biometrics scanners.

“So a Jedi would never want to infiltrate the Senate?” he asks.

“Not in secret, no,” Qui-Gon considers, “Why, Ani?”

“I don’t know.”

Qui-Gon stops in the corridor and looks down at him, eyebrows raised.

They have had a discussion before about precision in thought and word.

Anakin flushes and shifts a little from foot to foot.

“Focus your mind,” Qui-Gon instructs, “Test the unease you feel and try to discover where it comes from. Then find the words to describe it.”

They stand there for some time before Anakin finally growls and says, “I can’t do it.”

“Then perhaps you need to meditate on it further. We don’t have the time now…”

Anakin blurts out, “You always tell me that we can never trust blindly. That we have to keep our minds open to all possibilities. What if a Jedi falls? Why isn’t the Republic protected against us?”

“An interesting concept, young man,” comes an amused response from behind them.

Qui-Gon shoots a warning look at Anakin, who promptly subsides, red-faced and embarrassed.

Neither of them have noticed the Chancellor’s approach, which is surprising for Jedi even if one is only an initiate.

Then again, Palpatine is a man who walks softly and speaks only when necessary. He does not make his presence felt until he feels it necessary.

Qui-Gon bows in respect, and for a few moments there is only an exchange of pleasantries.

He has never met Sheev Palpatine, though he remembers vaguely that Obi-Wan did, in the aftermath of that fateful battle for Naboo’s freedom. He is reminded that his apprentice has also met this man when Palpatine looks to Anakin and smiles.

“And you must be young Skywalker! I am glad to see you found your place within the Jedi Order.”

Anakin bows and flushes.

The Chancellor eventually raises the issue that has brought him to interrupt their conversation in a corridor.

“What are your findings?” Palpatine glances slightly around him and lowers his voice. “I am growing increasingly concerned that the situation is worse than I first feared.”

“In what way?” Qui-Gon asks.

“I’m not sure I can describe it. It’s very hard to put it into words,” Palpatine says helplessly. He glances fleetingly at Anakin, including him in the conversation. “I wouldn’t want to accuse anyone without proof.”

Qui-Gon nods.

“And then I feel as though I’m paranoid. After all, a point of view doesn’t make an enemy out of a friend, no matter how divergent it may seem at first.”

“No,” Qui-Gon agrees slowly.

Palpatine smiles gently and looks between Master and Padawan again. “Ah well. I’m sure the Jedi will do their best as always. Thank you for your efforts on our behalf, Master Jinn. Padawan Skywalker.”

He walks away, followed by his aide and by his adviser, and as he moves only a short distance down the corridor, a Muun comes barrelling out of a door closely followed by Obi-Wan.

“Pardon me, Chancellor,” Obi-Wan says, and steps back to let the group pass.

The Muun has no such regard and stalks away.

“Trouble?” Qui-Gon asks, pausing beside Obi-Wan.

“The one being I thought would be willing to compromise has just refused all overtures and stormed out,” Obi-Wan says tiredly, “This chasm is likely to have far-reaching consequences if it goes on much longer.”

“Any threat to the Republic as it stands?”

“Not for those whose security is already assured,” Obi-Wan says bleakly, “The vulnerable will feel it.”

Qui-Gon nods. “You will do the best you can, my friend,” he says compassionately, “One man cannot save everyone.”

“One man can try,” Obi-Wan sighs, and goes back inside.

Anakin absorbs all of this.

“To answer your question,” Qui-Gon says, not looking at him, “We protect the Republic against ourselves. We teach ourselves, we govern ourselves. We hold ourselves to account.”

“And does that work?” Anakin asks.

Qui-Gon continues to walk. “Ask yourself this question, Ani – whom do you trust to work for the good of the Galaxy, Obi-Wan or the Banking Clan official who refuses to compromise?”

“I know Obi-Wan can be trusted, Master.”

“More than anyone, Padawan.”

“And you,” Anakin adds.

“Oh, Obi-Wan can certainly be trusted more than me,” Qui-Gon says drily. He glances down and sees Anakin open his mouth to protest his deliberate misreading. “Focus on what is important in the moment, Padawan. Our investigation is still ongoing.”

In the end, both missions merge into one, and the Muun who was Obi-Wan’s hope for a peaceful reconciliation admits to having been threatened if he didn’t vote against the financial sanctions for infrastructure aid to the Outer Rim.

He dies, unfortunately, when assassin droids successfully infiltrate his home.

His discovery and death marks the start of missions shared between both knights as equals.

This also marks the first time Anakin sees Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon fight side-by-side, and he finds it fascinating.

“We have had many years of practice, Padawan,” Obi-Wan laughs, and affectionately tugs his braid, “You will find the same rhythm in time.”

Qui-Gon, however, looks displeased. “Your technique has changed,” he says abruptly.

Obi-Wan stiffens. “You know I’ve studied Soresu, Qui-Gon. I judged it was better suited to this fight.”

“A defensive style?” Qui-Gon queries.

“It may not be your preferred method but it has its advantages.”

“It leaves you no room for counter-retaliation. Only avoidance.”

“A useful skill when I was protecting you from blaster fire.”

“A useful skill would allow you to do more than deflect fire,” Qui-Gon retorted, “Perhaps you could have disabled the units while you were engaged with them.”

Obi-Wan’s lips tighten and his expression goes blank. “I will bear that in mind. If you’ll excuse me?”

He leaves.

It isn’t as dramatic as it appears. Obi-Wan doesn’t technically live in the same suite as Qui-Gon and Anakin. His rooms are a short distance away. He is free to lead his own life when he can be spared from training and missions.

Anakin feels the tension he leaves behind, however, and shivers without thinking. He goes to bed wondering at how intertwined his Masters’ lives are, and for the first time he wonders if this is quite healthy.

It isn’t.

The Council is concerned.

They have allowed this experiment to run its course but Obi-Wan requests a mission – any mission – with enough raw fury contained in the set of his jaw that they fear for his ability to find his centre in a combat zone.

“Missions are not an escape route, Knight Kenobi,” Gillett says, “I suggest you remove yourself from all active duty until you have confronted whatever troubles you.”

“Agree with this, also, I do,” Yoda says.

Obi-Wan bows tightly and leaves the Council chamber, knowing the decision to be final.

He meditates on his failure to dissipate his anger and his stress before trying to act. More than that, he finds himself meditating on his failure to keep his affection from clouding his judgement.

He understands his own mind and knows his own weaknesses. He feels no shame for his advocacy in defensive fighting. The world he has begun to see is no longer a world of one-on-one duels; this is a world of blasters and N1s and droidekas.

It is, furthermore, a world in which he has almost watched his Master die because the Ataru style that Qui-Gon prefers has no defensive capabilities. It relies on reflexes and stamina, on strength of body and will and enough self-confidence to flatten an in-ground bunker.

Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan muses, has never lost his self-confidence or his strength of will but he is frighteningly mortal. And he is aging. And he has never been indestructible.

This is how they have always worked – Obi-Wan has apologised and made compromises.

This time, Qui-Gon approaches him in the training ring.

They spar defence to offence, and it is a forgone conclusion that Obi-Wan will win because Qui-Gon doesn’t duel in public anymore. His body is weaker, and his limitations are too obvious. His lungs no longer work to full capacity and his heart has been weakened from the searing heat of a lightsabre thrust through his sternum.

But he is still formidable, and there are several moments when Obi-Wan is caught off-guard by the green blade that hammers the tight sword formations closer to his body, threatening to overset his balance and his rhythm.

And then Qui-Gon backs away from the fight and Obi-Wan lowers his lightsabre to a passive stance, wary of this sudden change.

“Let’s try this from a different perspective,” Qui-Gon says, and gestures two knights out from the crowd beginning to form.

Obi-Wan’s eyes dart over them to assess their abilities.

It isn’t unusual for a Master to make his Padawan fight more than one opponent. It’s good training for situations in which a knight must battle on several different fronts.

That is not the duel that Qui-Gon has in mind, however, and for a moment Obi-Wan flashes back to the smell of fuel and blaster fire, of the chill of the generator room as Qui-Gon takes an opening stance beside him and activates his blade.

He banishes the memory as quickly as it arrives.

There is no room in a duel for unfocused thinking.

They work in tandem now – defence and offence together – and he has to be so careful that the controlled, close guard he keeps about his person does not impact on Qui-Gon’s aggressive bladework. In the same way, Qui-Gon retreats when he advances, staying clear of the careful balance he keeps over feet and hands and light dodges from side to side.

They win easily enough.

Qui-Gon is breathing too hard, too heavily, hardly able to speak. Obi-Wan neither touches him nor fusses around him. He simply waits, patient and watchful, until Qui-Gon can say, “I prefer to fight with you, rather than against you.”

This is the basis of their life from this moment on.

They practice regularly, honing their skills as a unit. When they are confident, they turn to Anakin.

Their Padawan aged twelve is learning the Ataru style as his Master teaches it and his secondary Master has learned it. Qui-Gon refuses to sully the purity of the form with Soresu movements.

The fact that Anakin picks it up without thinking makes Obi-Wan stifle a smile.

“You insisted I help train the boy,” Obi-Wan says serenely, “I distinctly remember you telling the Council that I would provide continuity for Anakin.”

“You have,” Anakin chips in.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says.

“What did I tell you about taking sides, Padawan?” Qui-Gon says quellingly.

“A Jedi must be impartial,” Obi-Wan and Anakin parrot back to him.

They are all far too well trained to laugh, but Qui-Gon does lift a hand to stroke his beard and Anakin tinkers with the hoverball he is trying to convert into a security droid.

“Why do you feel the need for a security droid?” Obi-Wan asks curiously.

“It isn’t allowed in the Temple, Ani,” Qui-Gon points out, “You will have to hand it over to the workshop, and I doubt they’ll ever find a use for it.”

“It’s not for the Temple,” Anakin says, “It’s for the Chancellor.”

Both his Masters freeze.

“I beg your pardon?” Obi-Wan asks, “Did you say that robot was for Chancellor Palpatine?”

“Yes,” Anakin says, “I was talking to him while you were in the interview with Senator Kim, Master, and I mentioned that a security droid could be used to patrol the galleries. If you put in a comm unit here and program it to record, you could pick up any weird conversations that could be dangerous to the Senate.”

“Padawan, put down those tools immediately,” Qui-Gon says, more forcefully than he intends to.

Anakin looks up in surprise but puts down the tools obediently. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Did the Chancellor ask you to build that thing?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Yes,” he replies, and then hesitates. “Well, no.”

“Which,” Qui-Gon asks ominously, “Is it?”

Anakin looks worried. “I don’t know. We were talking and I said it could be done and he said he would have to order it but there would have to be a conference with the Senate guard and the financial advisers and then he said it would be so much easier if he could just go out and get one. He said that the wheels of democracy always moved so slow.”

The Council is as displeased to hear of this incident as his Masters.

“Did you not realise how dangerous such a device could be, Padawan Skywalker?” Mace asks, “A Jedi cannot go around building spy equipment for anyone who asks.”

“It wasn’t anyone,” Anakin protests, “It was for Chancellor Palpatine.”

“And do you know how he would choose to use it?”

“For the good of the Republic,” Anakin says staunchly.

Yoda raps his gimer stick sharply against the floor, the ringing thud effectively ending the argument. “A mechanic, a Jedi is not,” he says repressively, “Such things, not for us to provide. Assistance, yes, but not spy.”

Anakin bows to them all before he leaves.

The security droid is indeed taken by the workshop, and for two years it sits in a corner before it is dismantled for parts.

“I would like to speak with the Chancellor,” Qui-Gon says, “Anakin is just a child and he can be easily led by someone he trusts. But I sense there is something else. If this is nothing more than a misunderstanding then I will be satisfied, but if it is not, I need to know why my Padawan is being targeted.”

Yoda points out that his duty is to Anakin, who doesn’t seem to understand why building robots out of spare parts for people who want them is something a Jedi should not do. In return, the Council will approach the Chancellor for clarification on the matter.

The Chancellor is shocked and saddened.

“It was never my intention to get the boy in trouble,” he says, “He has a kind heart, however. No doubt a credit to his Jedi training.”

“Spy equipment has always been heavily restricted on Coruscant,” Giiett says diplomatically, “It was deemed too controversial and the evidence it provides is not always accurate. Is this to change under your leadership?”

“Certainly not,” Palpatine says, “We have enough trouble with accusations of duplicity and dissent thrown around the Senate floor.”

“Thank you for your time,” they say, and leave.

Anakin’s situation is once again under review, the advisability of decisions made to place him under the joint care of two teachers is called into account.

“It was dangerous enough taking him in at his age,” Mace sighs, “Clearly his Masters have failed to properly instil any sense of caution if this is a mistake he makes at twelve.”

“A Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi is not,” Yoda reminds him, “A child, Anakin Skywalker is. Blame he carries, but not all.”

Obi-Wan points this out as well, standing on a balcony and watching his former Master trace patterns in the Coruscant traffic.

“He’s only a child,” he says gently, “He was trying to help.”

“Even an initiate knows better than to give recording equipment to a politician,” Qui-Gon growls.

“Hm,” Obi-Wan hums noncommittally, and then, “I would also think an initiate would know better than to confront a pack of whiphids and hutts single-handedly on a ship but I recall doing that.”

“That was idealism.”

“And this is not? You heard him. However he got it into his head, he did it because he thought it would be used for the good of the galaxy.”

“Not in this way.”

“Then we will have to teach him that there are other ways.”

Qui-Gon sighs. And then glances sideways. “These are wise words, Knight Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan grins. “Any wisdom I have I stole from my Master.”

“No. Some of it is your own. Quite a lot of it actually.” Qui-Gon turns to face him, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth. “You have done well, Obi-Wan. The boy I met on the ship to Bandomeer would have been proud to know you.”

Obi-Wan smiles back. “The man I met on the same ship has grown kinder,” he replies, “And calmer. Anakin will do well with your guidance.”

Qui-Gon grimaces wryly. “If I survive another Padawan.”

Obi-Wan laughs. “You will still be teaching us both when we’re as old as you are now.”

“I hope to be one with the Force by then, my friend.”

The laugh and smile softens. “You still miss her.”

They have never needed to specify whom Obi-Wan means when he says ‘her’. There has only been one ‘her’ between them.

Qui-Gon tilts his head. “Tahl? I always will.”

“I miss her too. Some days I pass her quarters and I still have the sense memory telling me to stop. To knock and enter.”

“She was your staunchest supporter,” Qui-Gon tells him, “When I lost faith after Melida/ Daan, Tahl and Yoda were the ones who dared tell me that it was as much my fault as yours.”

“It was never your fault,” Obi-Wan says.

“If I had seen the way you struggled after Phindar, I would have known not to give you ultimatums.”

Obi-Wan looks up at the traffic. “But Tahl’s life was in the balance. You hadn’t the time.”

Qui-Gon reaches out. “Obi-Wan, as much as I love Tahl, I would not make the same choice now.”

His fingers are rough and spatulated at the tips, his nails slightly ragged, but the brush of his fingertips against Obi-Wan’s cheek is delicate.

There is no mistaking the look in Qui-Gon’s eyes.

Obi-Wan has seen it once before, on New Apsolon, and at the time it was not meant for him.

“Qui-Gon,” he says carefully, “If this is a joke, it’s a cruel one. You must have known for some time but you have never teased me for it.”

“I would never dare,” Qui-Gon smiles, “It would be easier to get through that wall of defence you call a lightsabre technique. And Satine? Dearheart, if she arrived tomorrow would you go back to Mandalore with her?”

“Only if there was space in the offer for you,” Obi-Wan says promptly.

Qui-Gon raises his eyebrows.

“She found you attractive and intimidating,” Obi-Wan grins, “It’s what first drew us together.”

“This was eight years ago.”

“Age is irrelevant.”

“It isn’t,” Qui-Gon says quietly, “And my time has almost run out once. Obi-Wan, if it ends before Anakin is knighted, you must complete his training. No one else; you.”

“No,” Obi-Wan says.

“Yes,” Qui-Gon insists.

“No!” Obi-Wan looks frustrated and alarmed and panicked. His hands stay by his side, clenched hard for anyone to see. “I will not watch you die again. We fight together; and if it happens then I will care for Anakin but I will not resign myself to your death while you are alive!”

“And if you die?” Qui-Gon asks, “What request am I to carry out?”

“The same,” Obi-Wan says firmly.

They stand for a while, contemplating ‘what ifs’ and ‘inevitabilities’, and then Obi-Wan looks up at Qui-Gon and says, “Anakin is going to need some time to understand this.”

“Anakin?” Qui-Gon snorts. “Imagine the Council’s response.”


End file.
